


Domino Effect

by black_hat_with_bells



Category: Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_hat_with_bells/pseuds/black_hat_with_bells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of those rare moments where Harley works together with Batman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domino Effect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sinemoras09](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinemoras09/gifts).



> for sinemoras09, who prompted a Harley and Batman fic. (and you can totally see this as Harley/Batman too) 
> 
> There are some comic references here, but it is mostly drawn from the animated series.

The men chasing after her must be new in town. 

Sure, she had stolen the chemical compound from him but no one in the uh, right mind would chase after the Joker’s girl. But chase they did!

And she was not-so-secretly thrilled! Not scared at all, not her. Nope. 

Harley put the pedal to the metal and roared down the icy Christmas street. It was perfect for the Christmas spirit: even the carolers jumped out of the way when she sailed by on the side-walk were jolly about it. She did a little window shopping before pulling back onto the road.   
The snow and scenery added a much needed drama and urgency to her situation! As well as the Christmas crowds! 

She honked. She had the right away and she was a lady in distress. She swerved to easily miss the mother and child standing horrified (not really in the mood for red snow, eh) and grabbed the shopping bag through the driver’s side window for kicks. 

She’d take it to the buildings where she’d have the advantage. She spotted the glimpse of one of Gotham’s endless network of fire-escapes and decided, hey, why not put a little more effort into it? She wanted to stretch her legs. 

Harley turned the steering wheel and cruised to a stop. She had to shake her head a bit to clear the stars in her eyes but once she was out the window, she was right as rain and ready to make merry. 

She looked over the edge of the building. The first man jumped out, face covered by a hoodie.  
“Don’t you mooks know who I run with?!” she yelled. 

No answer unless you count the fact that they didn’t slow down. This did make her a little uneasy. Her costume was a dead-give away. She ran with the Joker, and she was the Joker’s girl. Anyone who tried to kill her was throwing away their own life. 

Harley didn’t like being uneasy. 

So, she went through her bag, pulling out different goodies. She finally found the spray can and quickly sprayed the last rung of the ladder. Finding herself a comfortable stop, she watched. 

The first thug peeked his head over the railing and she waved cheerfully. She’d be offended when the man didn’t wave back—but she knew his hands were glued tight. 

His eyes widened and he screamed, hanging down on the railing. Well. That was dangerous. The second one climbed over his friend.

Determination. 

He scrambled up and aimed a gun. Took a shot but she was already off, smiling as she did a double-flip and triple backhand. Her springed heels didn’t hurt her speed. 

The gunshots followed her, and she reached in her bag with one hand, pulling out her own   
gun. He was out of bullets, if she counted—ah, just right. He was hurrying to reload. 

“Stick ‘em up,” she said, giddy. “I’ve got you in my sights.”

He looked up to see the gun with the boxing glove sticking out the end. Harley’s smile widened. He laughed. She loved to make them laugh. 

“You’re crazy,” he said and had his gun all loaded. 

“Absolutely. Tag, you’re it!” she said and pulled the trigger. There was a lot of force in this gun and it always gave a kick in her hands. It punched him hard, threw him back. He hit the roof top in a skid and clutched at his sides. 

He even had tears in his eyes while he was spitting up blood. 

Harley was getting in the spirit. “Careful!” the guy on the railing said, as the third climbed over him. Harley aimed at his face, wondering what would happen. Since he was glued and all, it’d be funny to see if the force of the boxing glove would make his head pop off. She closed one eye and-

The gun was knocked from her hand by a bat-shaped throwing star. She stared at it for a moment in frustration, following the steadily increasing shadow—she braced for impact. 

Batman never failed to disappoint. The boot in her back set her teeth on end and she struggled against the initial black out. She heard a hissing sound and opened one eye in a haze.  
The third thug had leapt up past the first one and he had his hand open and the hissing sound was one of poisonous gas. She was immune to all sorts of poisons due to being around the Joker so long. It wasn’t like she was worried. Batman, however, had his gas mask on. 

She saw the opportunity for true hilarity. 

She reached for her gun again and aimed it at the side of the Batman’s face. Then she noticed the throwing star still embedded in her gun. 

He had broken the gun. Fine. She took out the star and tossed it at him. He grunted in pain as the star nicked his arm, drawing blood.   
Then she ran. 

Laughing, mind. But you always had to leave when the mood was high. Also, she did not want to go to Arkham for Hanukkah. 

No thank you!

***

Harley cleared several buildings. 

She’d aim for the brightest billboards and launch herself through the air with her spring-powered heels. Actually she had gotten lost in the motion and the fun. Before, in her boring life as just Harleen Quinzel, she was limited to seeing on gymnast bars as a hobby. Limited to fighting against being an unknown and possibly in poverty. Now she was sailing above the city.   
She was so glad to be a part of this world. She wouldn’t take it back for the world. She’d do anything to stay in it, too, with the one she loved. She’d love him through thick and thin against this world that didn’t accept who he was. 

Harley reached a holiday billboard and swung behind it, breathing hard. 

She had the chemical all snug in her bag. Her honey-bunny would be so happy. It was an interesting one: the claim was that it would induce homicidal rages by taking down their inhibitions and targeting the right receptors in the brain. The Joker definitely wanted it in his Christmas stocking. 

“Fah-la-la-,” Harley began in delight, turning on her heel. Safe.

“Quinn,” came a voice from the shadows. She flinched. The Batman always sounded like he was gargling with marbles but this time he sounded especially grim and—mad. 

She leapt away instantly. 

“Do you want to play guess what I have in the thermos?” she asked. 

“I know what it is. Where is the Joker?” 

“In my heart,” she said, happily. Where he always-

Batman attacked her. Well, he had just kicked her in the ass literally and he wasn’t above knocking her out with some fancy karate chop, or just a simple punch in the kisser. It was like a magical mood ring, the physical part. But this time it was different. He was behind her in an instant and pushed her face into the billboard. It took all the muscles in her hand to keep a grip on the canister.

“Playing a little rough, are we,” she muttered through the side of her mouth. 

“Where is he!?” he demanded. 

Yeah, he had hung her upside down once or twice, and it always gave her a blood rush. But oh, that was different too.

“HEY!” she said, still hanging on the stupid canister. “You’re gonna drop me!” 

“Yes I will.”

“Waitaminute! Even if I sing like a stool pigeon? You’re supposed to add that you won’t drop me if I tell.” 

There was this look in his eyes like he didn’t want to add that part. 

JEEZ. JEEZ. Should she—FAKE CRY?

She was working up the tears and then looked at the cut on his arm and thought about the gas the thug from said company used and then thought, oh could be based on skin contact. Mr. J was into those formulas now, along with formulas without antidotes. 

So. 

“Huh. Wanna play, guess what’s in your bloodstream?” she asked sheepishly. 

His eyes focused with scary intensity and then he pulled her up. As she looked closer, she could see him hanging on by a thread of restraint. 

Ooh. 

“Give me the canister.” 

She looked at the canister in her hand. Its loss would ruin her present for Mr. J. but there would be other formulas. 

“Well…OKAY!” she said, tossing the canister behind him and quickly flipped to the side of the building. She launched herself into the air and stopped when she hit the next rooftop. She expected some movement from the guy. 

He was perfectly still as if he was reigning himself in. Oh heck, he was reigning himself in.   
Harley watched, holding her breath. He picked up the canister and flew into the night. Harley should think this was one of these rare miracles you see on holiday specials on TV. She should run straight into the arms of her much more important other and tell him one of the best X-mas tales he could ever want to hear. 

Then they’d go as a couple and stir up trouble (aka matters of life and death). The murderous Batman would have to arrive and it’d just push him right over the edge. 

Right where Mr. J. wanted him. 

Harley should have run as fast as her legs would carry her. Instead she began to follow him.   
Hey, she was curious girl. 

***

And a smart one.

Harley kept her distance. She knew Batman was aware of her but it seemed he was using the cool air to shake himself out of the rage. Once he hit his car, he’d be out of her sight for good.   
She didn’t know how to feel about that. Chemically-induced insanity with a side of homicidal rage wasn’t her favorite thing at all. And it was strange. The moment she saw his eyes in such fury, she started to remember all those times where Batman had been kinda nice to her.   
She hurried along, focusing on keeping up with him. She imagined that if Batman had kept up at this pace she would have lost him in ten minutes, give or take. 

But this was Gotham and there was a crime every minute. Harley heard the scream echo down in the network of alleyways and she saw Batman stop. Debating it in his head. She heard the frightened scream again—“Someone, please, God, help me!”  
Batman’s shadow darted in the direction of the screams. 

Harley was a few buildings behind. She was just in time to see the Batman throw the mugger against the wall. Hard. The woman clutching her bag was standing pressed against the wall, watching. Not running. 

As you would. 

She watched the strain of his muscles. She could feel him fighting the madness inside of him. It was impressive , really, because suddenly she knew that Batman could kill anyone. Anyone she knew of. Superman, duh. Wonder Woman—maybe. By now, he certainly knew enough of her tricks. Anybody. 

Especially this mugger. 

He’d go through this town as if it was paper mache. She could just imagine it, a clear picture in her head, of carnage and a wasteland. She wasn’t being disloyal to her man by thinking it because she saw the Joker the same way: if he really wanted the game to end, he would end it. It was like how she was always telling Doctor Leland: if the Joker wanted her dead, she’d be dead. So therefore—logic means that he loved her. 

Another scream and sound of a thud got her attention, brought her back to reality. Batman could kill all her friends. Arkham would be the first place on his list. He could kill Ivy. He could kill the Joker. 

And that wasn’t going to happen. 

Harley leapt down into the alley easily and grabbed the woman who was smiling at the abuse. Harley got it, the guy waved a gun in her face.

“Stop rubbernecking,” she said, “amscray.” 

The woman paled at the sight of Harley’s make-up and was about to scream again. She crammed her hand hard against her lips. 

“Batman has gone…batty,” she hissed under her breath, “and if you make one more noise, he could put both our heads through the brick wall. Now go.” 

Harley shoved her away and the woman fled, bag clutched to her chest…

Which left her alone with the big bad Batman. 

Harley had fought him before, sure, uh. Uh. Right? RIGHT! 

She went for it, getting a head start with her spring-loaded boots and un-bagging her travel sized mallet. He blocked her easily and the mugger fled. Harley took it as a good sign that Batman didn’t go after him. No, all his attention was on her now. Harley was a pro at this kind of thing: lethal dangerous people and the fear that could trigger a blood bath. 

She wasn’t afraid. She was never very afraid for herself. 

She threw the mallet to the side and let him corner her. It was amazing, that feeling of coiled power, and unlike before, she felt a bit sorry for her actions. The cut was the reason, wasn’t it? She was angry at the feeling.

“I’d let you do anything to me and I wouldn’t even be mad,” she said. 

The Batman placed a clenched gloved hand by her head and she grabbed it slowly, uncurling his fingers. Full well knowing he could break her hand. She smiled at him and she saw him focus on her smile. The red lipstick. Not calm inducing, but she understood perhaps why. A reminder.   
He wouldn’t have fun, or else he would a little. That wasn’t the point. He’d be destroyed and that wasn’t as much fun as she had thought. This could go two ways and she knew which door she’d choose in this game. 

Harley grabbed his head and went to kiss him, and for an instant, his lips touched hers and she knew it’d be the kind of kiss that would murder your mouth, and so on, and for the first few minutes, it was a homicide on her lips, just like she liked it. She wouldn’t have minded helping him through his aggression issues, like she did with Ivy. But then he woke up. He pulled back, putting her down on the ground. 

She smiled a little: oh well. He looked behind him quickly, breathing hard. She expected a shout down. 

“You got them out.” Or at least a thank you. “Why?”

She raised an eyebrow. “It didn’t seem funny.” 

“You do realize that you try to do me harm each time we meet.”

“Oh I try to kill you. I don’t want to hurt you,” she clarified. Gosh, he must be sensitive. 

He shook his head for a moment. 

“How strong was the dosage?” he asked. 

“Oh, pretty strong. The doctor who made that cocktail does not do anything by half measures.” 

“And yet you’re immune to it,” Batman said. 

Harley smiled smugly. She wanted her pride in some things. “Yeah, I’m special like that.”

He looked at her. She looked back. Her smile faded. 

“Oh,” she breathed out. “I’m going to be a lab rat for you, aren’t I?” 

His lips thinned, and he didn’t answer. He was mad, all right. She shouldn’t have implied that she’d be of help to him. She got that much so backtracking. 

“What if my calendar isn’t clear?” Harley asked, inching just enough back for him to grab her arm. She didn’t even mind that he sedated her. 

***

Harley was shaken awake. 

Not nudged. Not given a nice wake-up coffee. Shaken. 

“All right, all right, I’ll get on the school bus,” she complained and then really woke up. He had his hand on her shoulder. “Gee. You look terrible.”

Which he did. Sweat was pooling on his lip now. 

“Get out of the car.”

She did so quickly, as woozy as she was. He opened his mouth and then seemed at a rare loss. 

“Well,” she prompted. “Let’s get to experimenting.”

“You need to know where to go to be safe,” he said. “In case.” 

“I’ll forget,” she said. “Sos we might as well just hurry.” Besides, where would she be safe from him, exactly? He turned and she hurried to keep up. She sensed he wanted space from her but too much space wouldn’t be good. She was actually really pumped, curious about where she was. She heard a high pitched squeal and stopped short. 

“What uh, is that?”

“You have your pets,” he said dryly. “I have mine.”

“Goldfish do not make that sound,” Harley complained but followed him into what appeared to be a cave. She knew the Batman was gloomy and all but—and then she hit the main floor and stopped dead. 

In awe. 

“ohhh,” she said and hurried forward, past Batman. It was incredible. There was a giant Penny, a dinosaur, and a row of costumes. Not to mention the huge computer. She looked over her shoulder, watching him quickly place the canister in some kind of…scanner. Sure. 

She shrugged and went back to her perusing. No wonder he had such luck then. She noticed that he liked to collect things. Trophies of his outings. So did her man, imagine that. She heard a ding of the scanner-thing. 

Harley darted over to the computer, sidling next to him. She saw his knuckles tightly gripping the console. 

“It dinged,” she said, and ducked forward a little. He had his eyes closed. “What’s next?”

“A blood sample of yours.” She saw the syringe lying next to his hand. 

She sighed and sat on the edge of the console, taking up her glove and rolling up her sleeve.   
“I hate shots,” she said. “Don’t you?” Silence. “You probably love them.”

“You’ll have to take it yourself.”

She blinked at him. Then it occurred to her. Duh. No fear, and she’d be fine. She was a pro. 

“You won’t hurt me,” she said. “Don’t worry so much.”

“You don’t know that,” he said.

“Sure I do-.”

He grabbed her arm and there was such a pressure that she struggled not to wince. “With the effects of the chemical, it’s not safe,” he ground out. 

“The stuff just makes you feel something,” she said. “I think you’ve felt this before, right, you’re acquainted and know its name, uh, Fredrick right, in more tempting cases than a chemical.” Batman frowned at her. Okay, that was the name of her rage, so whatever. “That’s how you are holding back, how you will.” 

“Barely holding back.”

 

His eyes—the depth of it all. She didn’t think she had seen this much since the Joker. 

“Build it up more why doncha! Just see how far you can go with those feelings?”

He began to do something truly frightening. He began to laugh. It’s better than an alternative in her situation. He looked stressed. Upset. 

She didn’t like it, so she wrapped one arm around him. He was tense but he let her. He didn’t stop her. 

“All the things I know, the things I was entrusted with. Their names, their faces, their lives.”

“Don’t shut them out yet or you are done for,” she said bluntly. And though it was a struggle for him, she could tell it was working. Barely. “My butt is on the edge of the sharp console,” she pointed out. “Hurry up and give me a-.”

“Don’t,” he said seriously. 

“A poke, then,” she said, winking. Well, she got what she kind of wanted. He gave lousy shots. Lousy. It hurt. And she didn’t think he cared very much at all. 

She admired all the tech though. She knew Batman had amazing toys but this was beyond her expectations! 

“You have a neat chemistry set,” she announced, as the scanner was now looking at her blood. “Maybe you could tell me what you did to make my blood greenish.”

“I didn’t add anything to your blood,” he said.

“Oh—I’m always holiday themed then,” she said. 

…Greenish huh. She was looking at his super nice chemistry set when he gripped the chair near the computer and she heard it crack. 

She didn’t look up. 

“I can help,” she said. “I know chemistry now.”

“You’d be more helpful if you stop anyone from coming in,” he said, and now they were in the danger zone. “Do whatever you have to stop me if it comes to that. No matter what.” 

And he gave her a meaningful look. 

Oh. So that’s why she was here besides the cure. He’d rather get hurt himself than kill anyone (aka die himself). How…sad…she felt her heart clench. It wouldn’t come to that, even when it would for anyone. 

In fact, she wanted to preserve how torn up he was about it. She never saw anyone torn up about death, you know. It’s rare. 

“Yes, mon capitan,” she said, with a smile and a salute. 

It definitely wouldn’t, that was what she solemnly swore. 

Unlesshewentcompletebonkersonherandwhatcouldyoudo?  
***

Harley thought they were home free. 

Truly. Batman was playing with the chemistry set, and she was being a mouse in the corner. Moving back and forth in the rolling chair but otherwise, mouse-like in spirit. This place was kind of amazing, once you got used to it. She wanted to decorate the cave though. 

Bats was grim but if they were orange bats, glow in the dark bats, that could be. 

She could dress them in costumes. 

She didn’t mind being needed, you know. And she was here. She’d do her best. She’d be good company for the holidays. Her man was always out and about, so this was okay when Batman needed time for the antidote to work. He must be impressively smart to make his own antidote. 

What should she do to pass the time with him? Hmm. Charades? Not in the mood, probably. How about cards? She had a pack of cards! But she couldn’t remember if they were lethal or not. Batman would be all judgmental and think they were lethal anyway. 

…She’d make her own new cards. Out of a piece of paper. How non-lethal is that.—although—well she’d make them non-lethal as best as she could. She wished Batman had crayons. He had a lot of kids around but no crayons. 

Harley would use a nasty old boring pen but she’d…control herself on the Joker card, obviously. She’d draw McDonald’s clown instead. 

She-

There was a buzzing sound that echoed throughout the room. 

“I didn’t do it,” she said. A glass broke and she saw him stand up. She stood up, heart beating with anticipation. 

“…So what was it,” she asked, wondering if she would have to do something really quick, and a tingle ran all over her body. She had to suppress a burst of laughter. The drama. The tension. The MEATY stuff. Life and death, hanging in the balance, will she have to kill Batman to save the ones he loved, or will our heroine manage to prevent catastrophe just in the nick of time?!

“The door.”

He was fit to kill. This was real. 

She had to think fast. “Do you have a speaker?” she whispered. “An uh, intercom in this fancy place?” 

He nodded. She waited. 

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” Harley said, after he just stared at her. “Do you have a code word for emergency too?...Bet you do.”

“Cat57.”

Cat. Right. Nice. 

“The button-.”

“The red one, to the left.”

“Watch the magic happen,” Harley said, and the first thing she noticed when she pushed the red button is that the speaker’s voice on the other side was mangled. She wouldn’t be able to recognize it from anywhere later. There was a normal button somewhere but good thinking and planning. For all of it. She went ahead with her plan anyway. 

“Hey. You need to stay back, we have a Cat57,” she said in a perfect imitation of Batgirl’s voice, the most updated blonde one. “He doesn’t want you to worry, he wants you to stay safe. He needs more time to solve the issue.”

“Ms…I see.” 

“Just, we need more time,” she said. “We’ll let you know what to do.”

She turned off the intercom. Looked over. Smiled. 

He was already back to feverishly working. Her talent was lost on this crowd.  
Back to cards for her. She’d put her heart into them. She listened to him work and her eyes drifted back towards the canister. 

***

Shot administered. 

T minus somethingsomethingsomething. By the way, he looked like death. Not even warmed over. She stepped closer, always ready to dance away. He watched her through hooded eyes. 

“You’re going to have to close your eyes,” she pointed out. “Pretty soon.”

It should be hilarious. He did close his eyes and kind of slump. He wouldn’t be one to fall to the floor. No siree, Bob, he’d remain upright even half dead. 

She half admired it. Harley danced up and unclipped his cape gently. She covered his body with it for warmth. That cape was thick. Who did his sewing? 

She looked at his face for a second, watched his chest rise and fall. You know, she had never seen him as a person. An authority figure who was a bully, who wanted to destroy fun forever, yes.

But she even thought now he was real. 

She sat down near him –-and who could sleep without being near someone—and went to work again on her project. 

Harley didn’t want to truly think what would happen if his homemade cure didn’t work.   
She guessed she’d have to stick around even longer because she couldn’t leave him like that, could she now?

***

Batman didn’t wake up like a regular guy. 

It was as if he was ready for combat before putting on his boots. (which he had his one now, but..) He noticed his cape but just to move it aside. 

Harley approached with her hands hurting. Pen. Evil pen. He was rigid in his chair, showing no weakness. She had an ace up her sleeve. First, though, she approached and put her hand on her forehead. 

“I’m wearing a mask,” he said. 

“I know,” she said, realizing. “Pick a card. Any card.”

He looked at her quick as lightning then eyed the paper. 

“You won’t even get a paper cut off these babies,” Harley…well, bragged. Then deflated. He didn’t seem to be picking a card. Any card. And that well, hurt her feelings a little. 

“We’ll see,” he said and plucked them from her hand. She beamed and bounced on the heels of her feet. He looked at the Joker card. She saw a twitch of his lip and the pride made her legs weak. 

“Pretty funny, huh?”

“It is amusing. Clever.”

She was going to combust. Well. Or just blush. “Sooooo does this mean you wanna play?”

“I’ll play a match with you, if you play fair.”

Willing to forgo the hidden paper cards up her sleeve, she threw open her arms to hug him and he held up his hand. “Not so fast. I’m still processing the drug in my system.”

“Yessir,” she said, quickly, the words familiar to her.

“You don’t have to say that, not to me. Not to anyone,” he said, and she blinked. “Come over here, there’s a better table.” 

There was one. A hard metal one, natch, but with a light over it, just like a real card table would have.

“I wish we had those little green hat-visor things,” she chirped. “Don’t you?”

“Having ears would make wearing it difficult, don’t you think?”

She stared at him, amazed at the tone now. “Yeah, I guess so,” she said, relaxing into a chair. She distributed the cards equally and precisely. She could stomach a fair game. They first passed the minutes with silence. Harley was actually doing okay! 

“I don’t know if anyone told you this…” she trailed off, hoping to psych him out. 

“I have a good poker face,” he deadpanned and she burst into peals of laughter. She was almost crying and she thought he made a few more shuffles with his cards. He could take advantage. He had had a bad night. 

“That was great!” she exclaimed, all smiles now. “You have good timing! But that’s not what I was going to say. I forgot what I was going to say. I like that one better. Can I ask you a personalish question?”

“You can ask,” he said. Oh like that was promising. 

“Do you and Catwoman take pictures in carnival booths?” she asked. A normal question. Batman looked through his cards. 

“No.”

“You should,” she said. 

“Why?” 

She swallowed a bit. “That’s what couples do and a good guy like you would be in a couple.”

Speaking of which,

Why didn’t he call the Cat? Surely the world’s greatest detective knew the identity of Catwoman. Why not? Sure, Harley was much more willing to take him out but there was something more. She thought Catwoman should never be underestimated, and naturally he wouldn’t want to hurt Catwoman more, granted. That probably went double for any brats crawling around this place. But maybe he didn’t want to be seen that way by the others. 

“You mean, a date.”

“YEAH!” she said. 

“I think you’ve misread the relationship.”

“Ah, you don’t want to talk about it with me, but…” She watched his hands. “As long as you’re happy.”

She was doing well in this game indeed. 

 

“Are you?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Happy.”

“Can’t you tell?” 

He moved some cards towards her, and she took it as a yes. 

“Do you like batplanes?” she asked, having had her eye on the bat jet for a long time. “How fast can you go in that thing? That must make you happy.”  
Card down. 

“I know you have to go for joyrides.”

“No.”

“NO?!” Harley asked. She muttered under her breath. 

“But I do take a cursory look of the city every two days.”

Harley’s lip twitched. She thought, well…she thought he did like her after all. She had never doubted it, not once. Hitting was flirting, and interaction was attention, and she didn’t think she was hated, never once, not even with the angry things they said on the media about her. Batman didn’t hate her and he felt joy instead of that put on misery and that meant he could be a friend. 

“I did really help, today, I thought,” she said. 

That was all she was going to say. She did help. She was proud. The air was heavy. He didn’t want to admit it, she was sure, it was a thankless job.

“Thank you.”

Her mouth dropped open first. Then she hurt. All over. A wave of it. She looked down at her cards quickly. It had been meant and you could tell this was rare too. The moment suddenly seemed as if she had really helped him through a crisis.

Her mouth was dry now. Weird. 

“Your move,” she said. She then didn’t want him to know that he had gotten under her skin, momentarily. She looked over her cards. “I can uh, help some more, sometime.”

“In what way?” 

“Well. In uh, crime fighting way, maybe, sometime. When I’m free.”

“I don’t think that would work-.”

“Rightright,” she said, waving her hands. “I understand completely. You have a lot of help already.”

“Harley,” he said. She didn’t want to listen, but that’s the thing about having open ears and your plug-up fingers holding cards. “What would you do if you came up against someone you knew? What would you chose?”

“Oh,” she said. A ton of bricks. She should have known that. “I’m sorry.” Nerves. “You have good help, though. The first Robin was a real acro-bat, you…get it?” 

His hands didn’t still. “Observant.” 

“I’m not searching for an answer. I don’t want to know, to be honest.” 

“I know. You didn’t try to unmask me. If you had, an electroshock would have knocked you unconscious.”

“You tease.” 

“Many in your position would have tried.” 

“There’s nothing to unmask,” she said. Dead silence. “So it’d be a little silly.”

“It may be the way with me…It isn’t that way for everyone.”

“Were some of your helpers green?” she asked. “Well, all this, it’s not so much yours anymore, I guess.”

“What do you mean? This mask, this being is very much mine, very much my responsibility.”  
She looked up, surprised by his roughness and severity. She licked her lips. “Well, if you want it that way.” 

She looked back down, her cards were pulp in his fists. 

“I meant you,” he said, “you can walk away.”

“You know that’s not true,” she said, laughing. “I’m in love. You can’t walk away from that.” 

He made his sound in his throat that she was supposed to see as laughter. 

“From that,” he began.

“And leave him alone,” she said. “Never. I know you think he can’t be loved.”

“Oh no. You love him, in your way. No matter how far he goes, you wouldn’t leave him.”

And while she thought she could say something inspiring, because…she guessed there was some problem, with the conception of it for him, the idea. He took her hand first and held it down, his fingers going right up to her old scars. He must have seen them when she took her glove off. 

She didn’t want to say it, but she liked him touching her scar through her clothes. He’s going to kill you one day.”

It was said so softly that she almost didn’t catch it. 

“One day,” she said. “but what I liked about you, was that you never tried too hard to save me.” 

He took his hand away as if he was burnt. 

“Can I ask you a question now, doctor Quinzel?”

She blinked in surprise, at the title. “You’re the Batman. You can ask anything you want.” 

“Did all this madness truly begin with the Joker, or did it begin that night Guy Kopski died?”

So. Batman could truly be cruel. At first: he expected tears or a great big frown. She smiled larger than she had in years, almost rictus like. 

“Well, you’re the detective. You tell me. Did it? Did seeing a man I loved more than my own life die in front of me due to…You know, he gave me these shoes, once, these stilettoes that he said he wanted to see me dance in. I think the police have them now, so I haven’t seen them in a while. Maybe that’s what ticked me off, having to dance in stilettoes and maybe I killed him in a murderous rage. Doesn’t that make sense.”

“What happened that night?” 

“I’m going to tell you because you don’t want to know. Not really.” And then she couldn’t. “They never could prove if it was suicide or not…I don’t know. All I know was that I tried to control the universe. Love, death, happiness, and success. All of it. It was a psychology experiment gone wrong, and while I never meant…the fact is you could have happiness and it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t stop anything. You can try to control the universe all you want, follow rules all you want. That’s the one thing you don’t get, that you can’t…even begin not to judge.” 

“I’m not one to judge you, Harley,” he said. 

She hissed under her breath, all these nasty things she had buried crawling up to the surface, and her head hurt. 

“I understand standing there…”

She swallowed hard. “And not being enough to stop it.”

“The guilt. The grief.”

“The anger,” she whispered. 

“Rage.” 

She looked up, feeling something on her face. Tears. 

“I can’t,” she said. “I won’t. I know, now, that I can just—laugh anyway. It’s what I…it’s what I got, after, like what else would I get. So, big whoop.”

And she was fine. But she had to get out of here. She had to go back and find the Joker. That’s the answer, as it always was. She was so busy climbing to a better place that the Bat’s hand on her shoulder didn’t make her flinch—but she stood up without a fight. 

“I want you to see something,” he said and led her over to the glass case in the corner. 

“He…” he paused and she looked up in confusion. “The Joker did kill someone I knew.”

She looked over at the Robin costume again. 

“It hurts you,” she said thoughtlessly. “Cause you think it’s your responsibility,” she trailed off and bit her lip. “Let’s not kid ourselves,” she forced out. “If I had been there, I don’t know if I would have stopped him.” 

Or rather, she knew. And he knew. 

There it was. She felt him right beside her, this massive impenetrable shadow, once more. She prepared herself with vindictive pleasure. 

“Regardless of what you do, I don’t want to find you the same way I found him.” 

She had never felt such extreme…she didn’t even know what it was. He didn't want her dead. After everything she had done, he didn't want her dead. 

“I wish you had just hit me," she whispered, so sick she couldn't move. 

“There’s still a chance," he said, and instead of hitting her, his glove cupped her chin. "You could stay here, I could try and help you.”

And she hadtohadto get out of here because this couldn’t be. She couldn’t accept it or else she would completely go crazier. 

When she leapt at him, fists raised, she knew she’d get what she wanted. When she hit him with her boot, the feeling of the canister hidden there would be a wake-up call. No guilt for him over her, no I owe yous. Done and done, with the weapon of mass murder on her person. 

Sedation had never been so welcomed. 

***

Harley wasn’t surprised. 

Arkham was nice enough this time of year, and well—her man would have time to forget the failure for his holiday plans. In a way, she needed a break after feeling so close to a breakdown. 

She spent the New Year watching the snow fall, blocking out the cries echoing down the hallways. 

“Harley, something arrived for you.”

She didn’t want to look at Joan, knowing she’d spy something self-righteous as always. “Yeah, yeah, another flower.”

Nothing could cheer her up, since it wasn't a bomb after all. “Well, open it and see.”

It was a rare day when she could open something, with them looking of course. She sighed and unwrapped the box with a heavy heart, thinking she might get a pie in the face. 

In the box were two red shoes. Wore in all the right places. Her old shoes. There must have been some time spent in this…

She swallowed hard, touched the edge of the satin material, and pushed them away. 

“These look nice,” Joan said. “Don’t you want them for later?”

No. No. 

“Maybe,” she said. “…Yeah.”

She might have smiled just a little.


End file.
